


A Place to Call Home

by zestycrouton



Series: Timeline [4]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zestycrouton/pseuds/zestycrouton
Summary: '"So where are you headed off to next, Fairy Boy?" she asks casually over lunch one day, and he hesitates.Where is he going?Where is there left to go?'Years after the events of Majora's Mask, Link returns to Hyrule in search for the one thing he's always wanted, the one thing he's never been able to find, and tells himself it's enough. Post-OoT (Child Timeline). Part of the Timeline mini-series.





	A Place to Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder: this short story is part of the 'Timeline' mini-series in which I take a look at how I think Link and Zelda's relationship dynamic played out after the various games in the franchise. This time, we're taking a look at Ocarina of Time (specifically the CT timeline ending, or post-MM).
> 
> No, you do not have to have read any of the other stories for this one to make sense, but if you would like to please feel free!

**_Timeline_ **

**-Majora’s Mask-**

** A Place to Call Home **

She has forgotten.

He had known this already, of course, known this from previous interactions with her in years long past, known this before he’d fled Hyrule and all its painful memories, before he’d abandoned the only place he’d ever thought of as home. But seeing the truth of it again before his very eyes after so long a time shakes him to his core.

The Princess of Hyrule sits before him on a throne of velvet cushions and lacquered wood and pretends she is not bored.

She looks… different then he remembers. Though both are roughly the same age they had been when they’d confronted Ganondorf together at the top of his tower, the physical differences between the Zelda before him now, sitting on her gilded chair and trying not to slouch, and the Zelda who had done battle with him for the fate of the world, could not be more striking.

This Zelda is haughtier. Her eyes stare without seeing, ignorant of the people around her. Her skin is pale, evidence of a lack of time spent in the sunlight, and she is decidedly more plump than the Zelda he remembers.

Gone are the wiry muscles, the lean frame, the hardened brow, the sorrowful eyes, the scars.

This is a Zelda who does not know the horrors of battle. Who has grown up in opulence. A beauty for her father to set on display, but who serves no other purpose. The very thought is discordant and revolting.

He kneels before her in her personal audience chamber, a child turned man turned child turned man again, haunted by memories of timelines and worlds and bodies that are not his own, and grapples with the painful understanding that whatever it is he’s been so desperately searching for cannot be found here, not even with her.

He’s out of place. An anachronism. Not just here in this lavish castle, but in this country, in this time, and even in his own skin.

Years of wandering, years of searching in vain for a purpose, for a place to call his own, had summarily come to an end when, without his even having noticed, he found himself once again returning to Hyrule. He doesn’t know why he is here. There is nothing for him here. And yet, there is nothing for him anywhere else either, so what did it matter, really?

Against his better judgment he had come to her first, almost as though he’d had no choice, as though his body was caught up in the motions of some ancient, archetypal gesture, willingly ignorant and foolishly hopeful that somehow, impossibly, she might hold the answers he was looking for. Just as she had once before.

Seven years gone from Hyrule. An unintentional parallel, or so he tells himself. Seven years, and every bit the stranger he’d been when he left.

But he’d approached her anyway, just one more citizen for her to meet that day, one more random civilian she had to put on her face and greet with practiced grace in the monthly public forum. A time for citizens to voice their complaints. A time for her people to seek help from the crown.

When he’d approached, her smile had been polite yet distant. Her eyes devoid of recognition. She didn’t know him. He meant nothing to her. And even though she seemed so different, oh, how his heart had ached.

His thoughts return to the now as Impa calls him to rise.

He obeys, stepping forward to present his case before the crown. His hand drifts to his pouch, ignoring the way the guards posted around the room tense as he draws from within its folds the excuse he had used to come to see her.

The Ocarina of Time seems to sparkle in the sunlight.

The guards relax, and a moment later Impa is before him, taking the small, ceramic instrument from his hands, a curious expression on her face.

He ignores her. His eyes slip around her frame towards the princess. She’s looking at him now, finally, but in her vapid eyes he finds no recognition, only mild curiosity as her Sheikah nursemaid strides towards her, brandishing his gift for all to see.

“Oh.” She announces, the first words he hears from her lips, painfully familiar yet unquestionably foreign as she examines the ocarina with a blank stare. “Yes… Yes, I remember…”

His heart leaps into his throat.

Hope bubbles up inside him like a geyser fit to burst.

She turns to him and smiles.

“You are the boy from the forest! The one from my dream!”

Impa gives him a considering look. The guards seem confused. He can’t bring himself to breathe.

“Thank you for returning this.” She hands the ocarina off absently to an attendant, and in that moment, everything seems to fall apart. “Was there anything else that you needed?”

It’s all he can do to shake his head.

He wants to run.

* * *

“ _Even though it was only a short time, I feel I’ve known you forever. I’ll never forget the days we spent together in Hyrule…”_

She had promised…

She had _promised…!_

* * *

The crowded streets of the marketplace are suffocating to one such as him, acclimated as he is to the open fields and endless roads and wide, boundless sky. Nevertheless, he shoulders his pack and forces his way through the throng, telling himself that he’s not running, that it isn’t fear that is making his heart race, that his burning need to be quit of this town has nothing to do with the hollowness of her eyes, the emptiness in her smile, the stranger’s face that haunts him behind darkened eyelids whenever he blinks.

The crowd, however, proves to be too much, and he turns down an alleyway desperate for a breather, for a moment to collect his thoughts and will his chest to stop its ceaseless aching.

That’s when it happens.

“Fairy Boy?”

His gaze lifts from the cracked paving stones, his only source of support, alighting for the first and thousand time upon the familiar visage of a lovely, red-haired young woman.

At the sight of her, his mind shutters, fighting past contradictory images that threaten to consume him; the twang of a bow-string and a late-night battle against an army of otherworldly apparitions; a wagon careening pell-mell through the narrow pass, hooded bandits hot on their tail; the sight of an abused, emaciated wreck of a girl, weeping alone in the stables that had once belonged to her father.

But the young woman who calls out to him now is none of those things. Instead, she retains the familiar, bright-eyed innocence and vivacity that had struck him so profoundly when first they met, in another life, when she’d stood outside the castle gates waiting for her father. Her haunting voice had called out to him then too, like a beacon in the night…

“Malon?”

She smiles, a simple yet somehow radiant act, warm and more inviting than anything he could remember seeing in very long time.

She looks just as he recalls; long, wavy red hair, curiously playful blue eyes, sun-kissed skin from a lifetime of toil on her family ranch. Her dress is plain, especially compared to the fancier attire he’d been surrounded by in the castle; a patchwork floor-length skirt of faded lavender and an off-white top that has seen better days, complemented by a threadbare yellow shawl and an apron, and a pair of scuffed and well-worn boots.

She looks like every other farmer’s daughter he’d met on his travels, and yet…

There’s something about her in this moment that holds him in place. Though Lon Lon Ranch hardly seems more prosperous now than it had been when he left, given the state of her attire, there is a warm flush to her rounded cheeks that speaks of years of health and happiness. A far cry from the ruin she’d been left in in the future where Ganondorf had won.

For the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, he finds himself suddenly grateful that he’d returned, the memory of his recent upset in the castle momentarily pushed aside. He may have lost everything he had loved and wanted in the process, but Malon, at least, is better off now than she’d ever been.

In spite of the fact that a mere moment ago he’d been all but consumed by his desire to flee the town and the shadow of the castle that looms overhead, he becomes drawn in by this ranch girl’s simple yet contagious good humor, and before he knows it he finds himself pulled into a conversation.

Standing under the awning of a nearby shop, the two begin to talk. She seems delightfully mystified that he is, in fact, the selfsame ‘Fairy Boy’ whom she had met all those years ago.

He asks after her father and Ingo and the ranch, and she’s surprised and pleased that he remembers all their names. She asks after Epona, and the smile that illuminates her countenance when she hears that not only does he still have her old horse, but that she’s there in town and he was willing to take her to see her, is almost enough to blow away the storm clouds that have been hanging over his head since visiting the castle.

Malon’s reunion with Epona is heartwarming. His horse reacts to the sight of her old master with no little enthusiasm, and for a peaceful moment he stands back and watches as the red-headed young woman buries her face in Epona’s mane and weeps.

There it is, he thinks bitterly. The type of reunion he’d dared to hope for. But there is no one in Hyrule waiting for him now. No one who remembers. No one who cares.

He moves to step away, willing to give the two girls their moment as he seeks out a refuge for his own internal turmoil, but before he can quietly exit the scene, Malon stops him.

Crystal eyes filled with tears, she thanks him. For taking care of Epona so well, she clarifies quickly, and for giving her the chance to see her again. She had hoped against hope for years that the day would come when they would one day be reunited, and now, thanks to him, her dream had come true.

“I always wondered whatever happened to you, Fairy Boy.” She laughs playfully, wiping unsteadily at the tears on her cheeks. “I used to spend hours daydreaming about it sometimes; of the adventures you and Epona went on together, and if you’d ever come back and tell me about them. I guess that part has come true too. Or half of it, at least.”

She offers him a playful wink as she steps out of the stall, her hands folded nervously behind her as she slowly backs out into the street, returning to waiting for her father.

“Promise me you’ll tell me about them sometime?”

Something inside of him wavers.

* * *

He should have fled Castle Town right then, but he doesn’t.

Instead he lingers, spending his days whiling away the hours roaming the town and his nights in the inn gazing up at the castle. He doesn’t know what it is that keeps him there. Some foolish hope that something will change, that a messenger will appear from the castle bearing summons from the princess. That some part of her remembers and wants to see him. To talk to him. To understand.

He hates himself for wallowing in such fantasies, but with every dawn he awakens with a renewed desire to leave and with every dusk he returns to the inn, conscious of the fact that he has nowhere to go.

He finds himself meeting up with Malon more frequently. Her father is in town for a few days to meet with some officials from the castle about acquiring more land to expand the ranch, and she’d tagged along with him more out of boredom than anything else.

He’s not sure why he spends as much time with her as he does, but there’s something about the way her eyes light up with recognition whenever she sees him that makes his heart lurch in a pleasantly painful fashion, and he decides not to question it.

If there’s one thing he’s gained on his travels, it’s money, and he’s no qualms about treating her to lunch a time or two if it earns him the pleasure of her company. She tries to rebuff him at first, but he can tell from the glow in her eyes that she’s secretly pleased that he’s spoiling her.

It takes a while, but it’s not long after his unofficial meetups with Malon begin that he realizes just how lonely he’s been. The sound of another person’s voice does a number on his psyche, and he’s surprised to realize a day or two later that his cheeks are becoming sore. It takes some time before he realizes why. He’s unaccustomed to smiling.

Malon is a bomb flower. There’s a simple earnestness to her personality, a liveliness in her every word and deed that speaks of an unparalleled joy for the simple act of living that brings a smile to the faces of everyone she meets. Quick to tease or crack a joke, they spend most of their time talking about his adventures in the years since he bought Epona, though he makes sure to edit some of the crazier stories so as not to frighten her.

She plays along, but he can tell that she doesn’t quite believe everything he says. It doesn’t bother him too much; that she believed any part of it at all was already better than how most people viewed him. At least in her eyes, he isn’t a stranger.

“So where are you headed off to next, Fairy Boy?” She asks casually one day over lunch, and he hesitates.

Where is he going?

Where is there left to go to?

“I don’t know.” He replies softly, staring down at the table that separates them. The knife in his hand begins to tremble.

She must have noticed the look on his face, but she chooses not to comment. A moment of silence passes, and then she’s changing the subject, her usual care-free energy thick in her voice, but there’s something mischievous and unreadable in her eye that he doesn’t quite know how to place.

* * *

He stays awake for hours that night, gazing up at the castle from his room in the inn.

She doesn’t know him. Not really. Not the part that matters.

Something dark and foul begins to writhe up within him, clutching at his throat, and he snarls up at the stark white castle in defiance of the world around him and the vagaries of life that remain forever outside of his control.

It was his fault, really. He’d allowed his time in Termina to poison his mind. Thoughts of friendship, of meetings and partings and the impossible reunion of Anju and Kafei had tricked him into believing once again. Believing in happy endings. In fairytale ever-after’s.

But this _was_ the happy ending, he reminds himself for the thousandth time. At least, for Hyrule. His sacrifice was the price that had to be paid for the people he had worked so tirelessly to save. And yet…

And yet…

In the depths of his heart, he resents her. Resents her for forgetting. For being able to forget. For marooning him here alone in a world in which he does not belong. Friendless, homeless, purposeless… Hyrule is at peace. A Hyrule at peace has no need for a Hero who knows naught but pain and war and bloodshed and death.

He should have stayed away. Faded into nothingness, just like the world he’d come from. No one would miss him anyway. Nobody remembers.

Unbidden, a voice drifts up out of the darkness.

_“I used to spend hours daydreaming about it sometimes…”_

Malon. Against all odds, Malon had remembered.

How was it that a girl with whom he’d had no more interaction than a handful of conversations and the purchase of a horse had remembered him over the gulf of seven years, yet the princess in whose dreams he’d appeared, whose father and country he’d helped to save, did not?

Does she simply not care? Was the truth of Princess Zelda’s character that she is a woman so selfish and narcissistic and small-minded that she sees only that which is placed directly in front of her? How on earth could she possibly be the same person he’d known in that other life? The Zelda he knew was kind, and compassionate, and selfless, and valiant, and brave! Their differences are like night and day!

He gets very little sleep that night, his mood more sour than usual. He finds himself thinking on more than one occasion that he wishes Malon were there to help cheer him up.

Which is why he’s surprised the next morning, when he heads off to meet the energetic ranch girl as has become his habit only to find her in the company of Talon as the two ready themselves to leave.

Talon greets him pleasantly enough, but there’s an edge to his eyes reminiscent of a man sizing up a horse. He doesn’t know Link, doesn’t trust the friendship he seems to have built up with his daughter in his absence, and he’s skeptical of what worth he may have hidden under his gruff exterior.

Link keeps his interactions with him as courteous and respectful as possible, reminding himself that he has nothing to fear from Talon, the man whom he’d caught sleeping on the job on more than one occasion. After all, he has no interest in the ranch owner’s daughter, at least not in the way he’s thinking.

Still, he’s saddened to see her go. She’s become the one bright spot in his return to Hyrule, and now, without her, he has nothing left to fill the endless void of his time.

Malon surprises him and her father both with a sudden suggestion.

“Daddy,” she begins, flashing Talon the exact same smile she’d give Link when trying to coerce him into buying her desert, “since the king decided to loan you that extra land, don’t you think it’s about time you hired some more hands down on the ranch? It’s going to be a lot of work for just you, me, and Ingo to handle.”

Talon nods slowly, a shrewd look in his eyes.

“Perhaps… I won’t deny that I’ve been thinking of it a bit myself.”

“Well…” She says slowly, taking an exaggerated step closer to Link’s side. “It just so happens that Link here is pretty good with horses. He’s strong, too, and he just got back after a long journey and has nothing else lined up. Maybe you should consider hiring him!”

Link gapes in shock, completely caught off-guard, but is even more surprised when Talon buys into it.

“Well, if he’s up to the challenge, I don’t see why not.” The older man announces jovially, to Malon’s delight and Link’s consternation, all his previous misgivings seemingly forgotten. “Mind, the work is hard and the hours are long, but you’ll have a warm bed and a place to sleep and food. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have a man on board who knows his way around a sword. We don’t get much more than the occasional cucco thief, and the Gerudo have been quiet since the war, but… What do you say, boy? Lookin’ for a little work?”

Between Talon’s welcoming smile and Malon’s poorly concealed excitement, Link doesn’t know how to respond. His eyes turn almost of their own volition towards the castle, and last night’s resentment wells up within him once again.

There’s nothing waiting for him here. The time has come to accept that.

Before he knows what’s happening, he agrees, and an hour later finds him astride Epona, following alongside Talon’s wagon as the three depart Castle Town, headed for Lon Lon Ranch.

As he leaves, he turns one last time to look back at the castle, and for a wistful moment he almost imagines he sees a blonde woman standing on the castle rampart, gazing towards him. He shakes his head and looks away.

* * *

Life on the ranch is nothing like he’s used to.

For starters, he has a schedule now. He wakes before dawn to the crowing of the cuccos, brushing straw from his hair and sleep from his eyes as he stumbles towards the cows to begin milking. Night and day have meaning again; gone are the sleepless nights spent shivering in some cave or between the roots of a tree praying it doesn’t rain. The bed he’s given is warm and soft, but its position in the barn’s hayloft leaves a bit to be desired; in spite of that, he finds something comforting about being lulled to sleep at night by the sounds of the cows and pigs below him.

Most days are spent herding the livestock, working the horses, stacking feed, cleaning hooves, repairing barns and fences, etc. Normal work, for a normal man. A man removed from heroic destinies or battles for the fate of the world, or the convoluted twisting of time. A man like any other. He almost doesn’t know what to make of it.

Talon, the ranch owner, is a kind if somewhat absent-minded fellow who takes Link in with startlingly selfless charity, providing him with room and board and a space at the table. He has a distinctly fatherly vibe about him, and his initial reservations over Link’s character seemingly evaporate once he experiences just how hard he’s willing to work.

Ingo is a bit harder to please; his surly countenance and sour-faced glares are as omnipresent as Link remembers, but he’s surprised to learn that Ingo is actually quite hard-working. The addition of Link to the ranch means a decrease in the amount that Ingo has to do in a day, which is enough to warm him up to Link at least somewhat, though Link remains unsure at first if they can ever truly call themselves friends, though they manage to bond at least a little bit over Ingo’s obsession with gambling; more than one night ends with Link, Ingo, Talon, and Malon sitting around the kitchen table playing cards. Strangely enough, it’s her that always seems to take the pot.

Malon continues to be the bright spot in Link’s day-to-day life. It seems to him as though she goes out of her way to find excuses to visit him when he’s out in the fields; bringing him water in case he’s thirsty, delivering lunch, stopping by just to chat, etc. Whenever she appears before him, the perpetual gloom that has taken up residence in his heart seems to fade somewhat.

Ingo’s glares become somewhat more pronounced whenever Malon shows up in Link’s presence, and on more than one occasion he catches Talon watching the them out of the corner of his eye, but he looks past it. He’s grateful for her friendship, and for now that’s all that matters.

He settles into a groove on the ranch, and before long, the initial days turn into weeks which become months and suddenly, he’s no longer a new addition to the ranch. To Talon and Ingo and Malon, it’s like he’d always been there.

Spring turns to summer, and the newly-calved livestock struggles to keep up with their older counterparts as Link and Ingo drive the herd out to graze in the pasture. Talon minds the cuccos and deals with the business side of affairs while Malon stays near the ranch, laboring in the garden when she isn’t working the horses. Occasionally, snippets of her singing reach out to Link across the fields.

Summer turns to fall, and the first cut of hay comes in. He finds it sticks to him constantly no matter how often he bathes or washes his clothes. On more than one occasion, Malon stops to tease him as she picks it from his hair.

When autumn comes, he finds most of his days are spent chopping wood and building fences around the newly-leased land granted to Talon by the Royal Family. Every now and then, Talon or Ingo leave on the occasional trip to Castle Town or Kakariko, but neither Link nor Malon accompany them on their visits. Link’s eyes drift to the castle in the distance more frequently than he cares to admit. Even when it’s not in his direct line of sight, its looming figure and the empty eyes contained within occupy the back of his mind.

Link wakes one morning to the foot of freshly fallen snow that heralds the arrival of winter. His days are spent hauling feed to the livestock and chopping stacks of firewood. It becomes habit for Malon to visit him every afternoon with a bottle of hot cider. The sight of her smile warms him almost as much as the beverage.

Before long, spring has come once again, and an entire year has passed since he joined the ranch. He almost can’t believe it. A year without violence. A year without needing to raise his blade to strike down a monster. His sword and shield remain where he left them in the barn, alongside his bow and quiver and other tools of war, and though he still practices his forms every morning, a part of him worries that he’s losing his edge. It’s only after such thoughts that he wonders what he’s even bothering trying to keep it for.

Talon surprises him early in the season by informing Link that it will be his turn to make the next milk run to Castle Town. And he’ll be doing it alone.

“I know it’s your first time,” the kindly man says before Link can get a word in edgewise, “but Ingo and I will have our hands full meeting with some folk from Kakariko. I need his shifty eyes, see; he’s better at haggling over horse flesh than I am, but I can’t not be here when they arrive. It’s bad business sense!”

Link has nothing to say to that. Truth is, he doesn’t mind making the milk run. It’s where he’s going that’s the problem.

But then, he tells himself as he packs his bags and hitches the mule to the wagon, was there any sense in worrying over it? It’s not as though he’s going to the castle. He won’t be seeing her. And she wouldn’t know him if he did.

The thought agitates like nettles raked across his soul.

Before he leaves, Malon sees him off. She must be able to sense the turmoil roiling inside of him, because as he’s readying the reigns in his hands, she suddenly moves forward, places a boot on the wagon tongue, steps up, and kisses him straight on the lips.

“Come home soon, Fairy Boy.” She whispers, cheeks flaming as red as her hair, and a moment later she’s vanished back into the ranch.

Link stares, completely flummoxed, until he catches Talon watching him from the front door of his house. Feeling uncomfortable, he cracks the reigns to get the wagon moving before the older man can say anything to him, and flees from Talon’s considering looks and the haunting warmth of Malon’s lips.

The castle grows steadily closer as the day goes on, and Link forces thoughts of Malon and Talon and the ranch into the back of his mind, steeling himself for the day ahead.

* * *

He sets up the wagon in Castle Town’s market, exactly where Talon told him to, and at first the day goes by surprisingly well. The townsfolk seem happy and eager to see him, though he knows it’s really the milk and eggs he’s brought along that they’re happy to see. He manages to sell through more than half of his wares before noon, a good sign, and it’s just when he’s starting to let his defenses fall and sink himself into the routine that it happens.

The crowd parts. The royal procession appears.

Familiar blue eyes meet his own.

It’s Zelda. Here, in the market place. Guards surround her, of course, and her bodyguard Impa stalks her in her shadow, but the only one Link has eyes for is her.

She seems startled to see him, too, and he tears his gaze away for a moment, shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, convincing himself that he was seeing merely what he wanted to see, not what was actually there in front of him. After all, he had met the princess in person only last year, and it had taken him brandishing the Ocarina of Time under her nose before she’d begun to remember anything about the boy from the forest.

When he glances back over towards her, it’s Link’s turn to be startled. She’s heading towards him, the crowd parting before her as her guards march ahead, forcefully shoving out of the way those who moved too slowly for their liking.

Her cheeks are pink, her hair as golden as the sun, and her eyes retain that same brilliant luster that have haunted him in his dreams for far more years than a person his age ought to have experienced. Her brows are drawn down, as though struggling to steel her nerves. Inside his chest, Link’s heart begins to pound wildly out of control.

He can’t do this. He can’t do this. Not again. Not now. He isn’t prepared.

She stops in front of his cart, and the world ceases to exist around them.

Here, standing before him, she seems so much younger that she ought to have. With her rounded cheeks, her wide, naive eyes, the way she clenches her fists as though summoning all of her resolve… Link can’t help but be struck by how childish she seems. Just as before, all the wisdom and grace that he had associated her with is gone. The girl standing before him now is still a stranger.

He says nothing. To be fair, he doubts that he can speak even if he wants to.

A moment later, she opens her mouth, a delicately gloved hand raising towards him, palm up as though in supplication. She’s trembling.

“M-may I please… purchase some milk?”

Link stares, not comprehending at first until one of the guards strides forward, all bluster and glower and irritability, and bangs his spear on the cobblestones below them.

“Here, Her Royal Highness is speaking, boy! Clean out your ears and pay attention, or-”

He cuts off mid-sentence. Impa is there, her hand on his shoulder, an unreadable look in her eye.

“I will handle this.” She murmurs, though there’s something in her tone that speaks of a thinly-veiled threat, and in the next second the guard is shuffling hastily away.

Impa turns back to Link, her gaze considering. She sticks her hand into her pouch and withdraws a blue rupee.

“I believe our princess requested some of your fine milk, young man.”

Link doesn’t know what to do. The entire situation feels utterly surreal.

Nodding to Impa, he ignores the intent way Zelda watches him and the jittery electricity that crackles through his limbs as he steps towards the wagon, removing the lid from one of the large ceramic jars, ladling out a single portion of foamy white milk into a clean glass bottle before turning back to the princess and extending the drink to her. His movements feel stiff and jerky. For a wild moment, he wonders what it will feel like when her fingers brush his own…

Impa’s hand beats Zelda’s to the bottle, and she snatches it from him, eying the liquid within carefully even as the princess huffs and scowls at her caretaker. The Sheikah gives the drink a cautious sniff, swirls it around a bit, takes a sip of her own… and then nods, passing it off to Zelda.

The princess, for her part, seems completely flustered. The moment ruined, she cradles the glass in her hands for several seconds, not taking a drink, as she casts several unreadable glances towards Link and Impa, her mouth opening and closing as though she has something she wanted to say but isn’t quite sure how to phrase it.

Finally, she takes a short breath to steel herself and meets Link’s gaze with all the determination she can muster. Her hands are shaking, the milk inside the bottle quivering through the translucent glass. Something in Link’s chest lurches in a painful manner. The princess opens her mouth to speak.

And then she’s gone, hastily turning away and fleeing through the crowd, her guards struggling to keep up with her even though she’s in heels and a dress.

The anticipation in Link’s chest caves in on itself, and he watches in mute frustration and disappointment and anger as she hides from him in the crowd, her face averted, busying herself with the other stalls as though he isn’t even there. He’d allowed himself to hope again. To believe that there was something that could be redeemed in their relationship. But he was wrong.

It takes him a moment to notice that Impa is still standing at his side.

She flicks him the rupee when he looks at her, but then instead of walking away towards the princess, she instead turns and leans up against the back of the wagon, her arms folded under her breasts, her expression oddly wistful.

“So, it _was_ you.” She says, her voice familiar and husky, and Link turns away, busying himself with helping his other customers, though the crowd seems to have dimmed thanks to the Sheikah woman’s presence. Her baleful red eyes glower at those who try to approach, driving them away.

“I had wondered why it was that she wanted to come to market today. She does so periodically, usually once a month; her father wishes for her to obtain a firmer grasp on the mood of the people. Yet when she awoke this morning and told me of her desire to come to the town today, I’ll admit I was confused. Seeing you here answers some of my questions.”

Link says nothing. What was there to say? How had she even known he’d be here in the first place? Fate? Chance? Were the goddesses not yet done playing tricks on him?

“She spoke of you a great deal, you know.” Impa continues, her eyes locked firmly on the princess as she makes her rounds throughout the market place. “Back when she was younger, I mean. In the weeks and months following your departure. She was absolutely enamored by you; the boy from the forest, messenger of the gods, who arrived in accordance with her prophetic dreams to deliver the warning about Ganondorf’s betrayal. Every day, she would ask me about you; about where you might have gone, what adventures you were having, if I thought she’d ever see you again.”

A rueful smile creeps its way onto the Sheikah’s face.

“To be honest, it was annoying.”

Link turns to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but her expression reveals nothing. The princess continues her rounds, greeting the common folk, shadowed by her guards, but she seems distracted. Every now and then, he catches her glancing in his direction.

“It wasn’t long after you left that it happened. I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but the war between Hyrule and the Gerudo was fierce. Nearly three solid years of fighting. Three years of bloodshed and carnage and civil unrest. Finally, the treacherous Ganondorf was captured and consigned to oblivion, but the stress took its toll on His Majesty. He became distant and agitated, spending less time with his daughter than he used to, until finally…”

Here, she sighs, lifting a free hand to rub wearily at her temples. Zelda sneaks another glance toward the two of them from across the market and accidentally meets his gaze. She hastily turns away, cheeks turning pink.

“He found out about the Ocarina. Strictly speaking, Her Highness was not supposed to touch such an important royal artifact, let alone give it away to some strange boy from the forest, no matter what he’d done for his country. The king grew angry, and the princess became the outlet for all his pent-up stress. She was sorely punished. He forbade her from speaking of you again, from talking anymore about her dreams.

“It was the strain more than anything; normally, His Majesty is a kind, benevolent man, but the civil war with the Gerudo came very close to tearing our nation in two. Zelda loves her father. She was afraid of angering him further, of increasing the distance between them. I think she chose to repress her memories of you, for the sake of her own emotional well-being. And from that day forward, I never heard her speak of you again.”

Link says nothing. The resentment inside of him, puerile and unfair as he knew it was, was boiling in earnest now at the sight of the princess being so carefree and naïve when nearly every moment of his life since his return to the past had been chaos and loneliness and despair.

He shakes his head in a vain attempt to toss the useless animosity aside. He needs to get away from her. Most of the milk jars have already been unloaded from the cart. If he leaves now, Talon will be upset with him, but maybe he can make up the rest of the sales tomorrow morning before heading out…

“When you came to us last year, it was as though something awoke inside of her.”

Link stiffens. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to let Impa’s treacherous words poison his mind any further. The hate inside of him roars in defiance, but he keeps it firmly in check through sheer power of will.

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen the princess look so lively. I think seeing you again called to mind memories of happier times, before the war. When the goddesses had seemed to smile upon her. When her father had been kind and cheerful.”

Here, she turns to him fully, and to his complete surprise, she offers him a full, formal bow, her body nearly parallel to the ground.

“I owe you my thanks, Hero.”

She straightens, a playful look in her eye. “At least, to hear the princess tell it. She says that in another world, you were our savior. It sounds like nonsense to me, but I can tell that she believes it, and that is enough.”

A moment of silence passes in which both warriors stare across the crowded market towards the princess. She’s crouching down, speaking with a small child. The smile she wears… bears no resemblance to the princess Link remembers.

The princess as he knew her in her adulthood had never smiled. She’d never had a reason to.

The anger inside him begins to wilt.

He loathes her for being happy, but… was that not the very reason she’d sent him back in the first place? To find happiness himself? Could he really go on resenting her, when deep down he knew he wanted this for her as well?

“If you’d like, I could offer you a position as a guardsman. It’s the best I can do for a traveler with no titles or family name, but if you have half the skill I think you do then with a few years of hard labor, I’m sure you’d be able to work your way up to knighthood. It’s bound to pay better than being a ranch hand. What do you say, boy? There could be a place for you here.”

Link’s chest tightens. Her words echo in his head. A place for him… somewhere he could belong… a home…

From the depths of his subconscious, another voice calls out to him.

_“Come home soon, Fairy Boy.”_

Before his eyes, it’s as though two paths diverge within the market place. On one route lies the ranch, with Talon’s bellowing laugh and Ingo’s surly grumble and Malon… Malon, with her fiery hair, Malon with her impetuous spirit, Malon with her chaste kisses and her eyes that glow with welcome and warmth when she sees him.

On the other path lies the castle. The life of a knight seems somehow perfect for a man who knew nothing but violence and death, who had spent more years than his body could attest with sword in hand, slaughtering his enemies with careful skill and precision. In the castle, his life would be in service to Hyrule. He would have a purpose again. And… She would be there…

His eyes glide towards her once more. In the afternoon sunlight, through the spray of the central fountain, she seems to glow with an ethereal light.

Malon and Zelda had much in common, he decides. At least, in this iteration. Both have the same blue eyes that stare at him without comprehending the horrors that dwell within his psyche. Both are ignorant of the ruined future he comes from, and the roles they played in the life he’d lived there. But they are different as well. Very different. Too different.

He wishes he could say that it was something positive, like love or loyalty, that ultimately makes up his mind.

But it’s not.

It’s bitter understanding.

For though the princess across the square stood before him, tangible and lovely and alive, and though finally, despite all his previous doubts and despair, she’d managed to regain some notion of who he was… he knew deep in his heart that it would never be enough.

She may finally be beginning to remember the boy from the forest, but she would never remember the man. She would never be able to recall the desperation of their days spent together in the ruins of Hyrule; the soothing comfort of melodies plucked from a lyre’s strings; the way they’d defended one another from the monstrous shadow as Kakariko burned around them; their desperate flight down Ganondorf’s crumbling tower…

In this world, the moments they had shared together had never come to pass. Though the memories still haunt him, still plague him with nightmares that keep waking him in sweat-drenched terror night after night, she had been fortunate enough to have her recollection of those events sluiced away from her mind by the flow of time. She can never understand him. Not in the way he so desperately needs.

And, with a bitter-sweet sort of finality, he decides that that’s alright.

She was the princess, it was true.

But she was not his princess. And she never would be.

With all the self-control he can muster, he turns Impa down.

“She will be sad,” Impa replies simply, though from the tone of her voice he half-suspects that she’d anticipated his answer. “Seeing you seems to brighten her day.”

Link turns away, murmuring softly, “Not as sad as I would be, being in her presence.”

He bends over, latching up the back of the cart for all that he isn’t yet done selling all his wares yet. His unexpected meeting in the market has drained him of his stamina, and he needs to go somewhere quiet where he can think and be alone.

When he straightens back up, he’s surprised to see from the look in Impa’s eyes that he’d managed to catch her off-guard. The princess was getting dangerously close to completing her circuit; she would be back in only a few more minutes. He needs to be gone, now.

He's up in the driver’s seat and turning the wagon around before he realizes it, but he pauses for a moment before flicking the reigns. Impa is still beside him, looking up with something like pity shadowing her eyes, and Link clears his throat and speaks.

“If… Hyrule should ever have need of me,” he says quietly over the din of the crowd, “you know where to find me.”

He fully expects her to snort and ask what one lone boy with a sword could ever do for Hyrule, but she does not. Instead she nods, saluting him as though he were a soldier, and he turns, whipping the cart into motion.

He feels the princess’s eyes burning on the back of his skull as he leaves the market, but he doesn’t turn back.

The sun remains high overhead, beautiful and familiar and forever out of reach.

* * *

A few days after returning to the ranch, Talon pulls Link aside.

He’s unsurprised when his employer asks Link to consider taking his daughter’s hand in marriage.

A part of him feels guilty, knowing that no matter how fond of Malon he was, there would always be a part of him silently yearning for the princess he’d left behind. But though Malon would never be Zelda, and though she could never possibly understand the weight of the past that constantly seems to drag him down, or the scars that time has left behind forever marring his soul, she’s patient and sweet and kind and, perhaps most importantly of all, within his grasp.

Her smile warms the coldness in his heart. Her presence makes him happy.

And happy, he tells himself, is more than he had ever previously hoped for.

So, ignoring the restlessness and disquiet in his heart, he finds himself agreeing.

The day they wed, there is no pomp, no circumstance. Just a simple ceremony, held on the ranch, with no one but Talon, Ingo, and Epona in attendance.

Talon and Ingo cry. Malon has never looked more beautiful.

The castle sits on the horizon, just where it’s always been.

Finally, after so many years, he’s found it.

A place to call home.

He tells himself it’s enough.


End file.
